


But Came The Tide

by hooknleather



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Captain Duckling AU, Captain Swan - Freeform, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Kidnapping, Pirates, Pre-Hook Killian, Princess Emma Swan, Slow Burn, Two-Handed Captain Hook | Killian Jones
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-06-27 23:10:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15695259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hooknleather/pseuds/hooknleather
Summary: Princess Emma of Misthaven had found life cooped up in the palace walls dull and boring. It wasn't until her first journey away from home that she found excitement and a thrill out of life.A Captain Swan story filled with revenge, betrayal, saving and love.For Sofia.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!
> 
> So I asked on Twitter if I should wait to post this fic and the consensus was a resounding "post it immediately" so here's chapter one.
> 
> Enjoy and please do leave a review to let me know what you think?

But Came The Tide. 

 

“ _One day I wrote her name upon the strand,_

_But came the waves and washed it away:_

_Again I wrote it with a second hand,_

_But came the tide, and made my pains his prey_.”

-Edmund Spenser, _Amoretti LXXV_

 

CHAPTER 1 

 

Thirty summers and thirty winters since her mother and father had taken over the throne since her grandfather passed in his sleep. King David was a fair but firm ruler whilst Queen Snow always maintained the reputation of the merciful queen. They were the best King and Queen that Misthaven could ever have wished for.

It had been ten summers into their reign and thirteen into their marriage that they finally succeeded in producing an heir to the throne. Queen Snow had smiled when she and her husband announced to the kingdom that a prince or princess was on the way, for many a moon now they had believed that such a feat may not be possible.

The citizens had rejoiced, for they had imagined that any child of King David and Queen Snow would be as just and fair as their mother and father.

Crown Princess Emma of Misthaven was not what her parents had expected. Born of their true love, it had been assumed she would be as kind and loving as her parents. That she would have the empathy of her father and the ability to talk to woodland creatures like her mother. But Crown Princess Emma of Misthaven could be brash, sarcastic and even rude at times. She hated being a princess. Hated the responsibility, the lack of freedom to do what she chose.    

From a young age, Emma had ditched her lessons, deciding instead to sneak into the stables wearing a shirt and breeches and ride her horse, Buttercup, off into the distance. From the ripe age of sixteen, her father had begun arranging balls and dances where Emma was forced into tight, stifling dresses and had to act courteously before hopeful suitors. But of course, the princess more often than not found a way to leave the parties early and rip the countless ball gowns that cost a _lot_ to make from her body, settling once again in the breeches and shirts that she much preferred to dress in.

Emma decided she had no time for love or men or anything of the sort. She wanted a life outside of the palace walls, a life where she could explore and see the world. Not be cooped up, hidden from the wonders and extravagance that she had read about, the ones that lay beyond the borders of Misthaven.

“I won’t tell you again, Duckling. You must refrain from avoiding taking your lessons. You only ever seem to be interested in the art of battle. Why is it that you never appear at your geography or arithmetic lessons, but always at archery and fencing and anything that allows you to wield a weapon?” Her father asked at dinner a few nights after Emma’s twentieth birthday extravaganza. Another ball she had skipped out on early to sit in the kitchen with Granny, gorging on cake. It was clear to Emma that her father hated her rebellious spirit, but he struggled to say “no” to her. He had since she was young.

Her father’s reluctance to truly become angered with her, or punish her for her disobedience was the only reason why she still allowed him to refer to her by the nickname he had coined since she was little. _Duckling._

“I don’t know, Father. Maybe because geography and arithmetic are so _boring._ I don’t care about learning where Arendelle is in relation to Agrabah. If I could _visit_ these places then-“

“Emma.” Snow said, finally piping up after at least half an hour of listening to the heated debate between father and daughter. “Your father and I have decided that we wish for you to pick a suitor. I know I have always spoken of true love and how I wish it upon you. But our kingdom is suffering a financial decline. We need to do something momentous and sudden to bring us back to the economical state that our subjects deserve.”

The Princess’ stomach dropped, her glass of wine lifted halfway to her mouth as her mother spoke, staring at the Queen with anticipation and fear. _I know where this is going, and I don’t like it…_

“We have had an alliance with the Dark One ever since he helped us find each other, and aided us in capturing the Evil Queen to regain control of our kingdom.” Emma had heard the tale countless times. Rumplestiltskin had used the magic he possessed to aid Snow and David in defeated Snow’s stepmother, Queen Regina. He had been pardoned by the King, his past sins forgiven.

Allowed to roam free once again, the Dark One had managed to find the son he lost many years ago and live out a rich lifestyle on the other side of the kingdom. He had money, magic and resources. His son was no prince, but he was rich and influential. He would be an asset if he joined the royal family, a great asset.

“Emma, we need you to sail to the Dark One’s castle, meet with his son, Baelfire. The boy has great interest in you. We urge you to consider accepting his proposal, he is bound to ask. As your duty as princess, Emma, we need you to do this for the sake of your kingdom.”

 _Fuck._ So on one hand, she could finally leave the walls of the castle and the towns surrounding it, sail to the Dark One’s domain and see a different part of the world. But on the other hand, she would be forced to marry a man she had met only once, and probably would never love. He was the Dark One’s son for heaven's sake.

“No! No way! I can’t marry the son of that beast, he’s a trickster and a demon. Father, you know what Rumplestiltskin is like, he only helped you two find each other because he needed me to exist to help him reunite with Baelfire!” Emma pushed herself from the table, her hands flying into her perfectly pinned hair, messing up the style that her taken her lady’s maid a long while to accomplish. How could her parents even consider asking this of her?  

“This isn’t a request, Duckling.” Her father said, also rising from his seat. “Before the week is out, you will board our finest vessel and will take the journey to the Dark One’s land. You will meet with Baelfire, and if he proposes, you _will_ accept.” And with that, and a dramatic swish of his deep red cloak, King David exited the grand hall.

Emma turned to look back at her mother, tears brimming in her eyes. “Mother, please… Don’t make me do this…” Snow took Emma’s hand in one of her own, the other tenderly stroking away one lone drop that had slipped down her daughter’s cheek.

“We don’t have a choice, sweetheart. I know it’s not ideal, but it’s what is best. We wouldn’t ask this of you if we didn’t think you could be happy. But you’ve met Baelfire before, he’s a decent man. This is just what has to happen. It’s the duty of being a royal.”

Emma still wasn’t happy about her recently depicted future, but her mother was right. She had a responsibility to the people of her kingdom, to help them live comfortably and peacefully. She would go, leave home for the first time and see where the winds would take her. No matter how much she hated the idea of marrying the son of the Dark One. She had a role to fulfil, a job to do, a kingdom to protect.

 

* * *

 

The waves calmly lapped against the sides of the docks, a light breeze ruffling her hair as she stood, eyes closed at the edge of the ocean. It was serene, the way her face was tilted slightly to catch the soft rays of morning sun, the scent of salt filling her nose. She looked at peace, her soft blue dress matching the water as she took in the last moment.

A week had passed since judgement had been made on Emma’s future, preparations had been made and now the day had arrived. Emma had thought she would be much more frightened. But she had come to accept that this what she was born to do, to sail the ocean to save her kingdom from economic hardship. She had arrived down at the docks early, rising with the sun to stand at the water’s edge, mentally preparing herself for the journey. She hadn’t sailed before, at least, not to the extent of this journey.

A warm hand came to rest on Emma’s shoulder, her eyes opening to see her mother and father stood before her, Snow’s eyes already wet and puffy from tears. Emma gave both of them a small smile. She understood, years of trying and failing to have a child before finally succeeding had made both Snow and David protective of their daughter, this must be a difficult day for them.

“Be careful out there, Duckling.” David said softly, his hand squeezing Emma’s shoulder encouragingly. “It’s not a safe world outside of the kingdom, but I know you have the skills and the knowledge to keep yourself from harm. And remember, we will be here for you when you return from your voyage.”

Emma nodded, sniffling slightly as his words wracked her full of emotion. “I know, daddy. Thank you for, well, always being the best father a girl could wish for.” A tear slipped down the Princess’ cheek, but it was quickly blotted away by the fabric of the King’s tunic when he pulled her into a tight hug. Emma’s eyes squeezed shut when she felt David’s hand cup the back of her head, the way he had hugged her ever since she was a baby.

“I love you.” She whispered into his shirt, not even caring that she was creating wet patches from her tears against the material. David kissed the top of her head before pulling back.

“I love you too, Duckling.”

A small whimper made Emma turn, letting go of her father’s embrace to see her mother sobbing beside the two of them.

“Oh, mom.” Emma muttered, immediately pulling the raven haired woman into a tight hug, tears still sliding down each of their cheeks. “I’m going to miss you so much.”

“I- I know it’s o-only a few weeks.” Snow sniffed, hugging her daughter back in a way that showed Emma that her mother didn’t want to ever let go. “But I just… I just hope the time passes quickly so that I see you again.”

“I’m sure it will.” David slid his arm around his wife’s shoulders, effectively helping Emma to step out of her mother’s arms. It was difficult, but Emma knew that if she didn’t get on that boat soon, she never would. “You’ll be back with us soon, Duckling. And hopefully you will bring home the means to saving our kingdom.”

Emma said nothing, simply nodded. If she said much, she knew she would burst and refuse to leave. She had detailed her goodbyes and thoughts in the letter she had left on her vanity. Emma had never been one for speaking her feelings, her emotions usually ran so deeply and intensely that putting them into words was far too difficult a task. Actions definitely spoke louder than words when it came to Princess Emma of Misthaven.

So Emma allowed her parents to kiss her forehead, leaving them behind with a watery smile and a curtsey before she took her place aboard the boat, the Captain bowing before taking her hand to lead her further on deck. Her heart was racing, her mind a mess of fear, adrenaline and emotion. This was it. Her step into the unknown. The journey of a lifetime.

And the water lapped against the sides of the boat, the gentle rocking of the vessel making Emma’s stomach stir. Either that, or it was the nerves coursing through her veins. Her fingers gripped the taffrail tightly, using it to steady herself. She didn’t want to look weak, since a crowd of their subjects had gathered near the water’s edge to see the Crown Princess leave on her travels. So she kept an empty face, her eyes fixed on the horizon.

Sailors all around her were shouting, working and moving over the boat, getting them ready to set sail. Emma couldn’t help but let her eyes flick back to her parents when the men hoisted the anchor and the wind billowed the sails. One of her father’s hands lifted in a farewell wave whilst the other was occupied; wrapped around her still crying mother’s shoulders.

Before she knew it, her parents were small specks in the distance, the vessel she now resided on having picked up speed and had sailed far out of the harbour and out into the open ocean. She was free, for the time being. But she was heading right back into enslavement. Enslavement of an unwanted but required marriage. One more tear managed to break through her barriers, the warm drop slipping down her cheek.

The wind ruffled her hair, pulling strands out of the pins that kept it neat and tidy. The salted air whipped against her face, playing with the satin flowing layers of her dress. It was a light garment, one to keep her modest and warm, but also fare well on the ocean. It had been designed and crafted to be reminiscent of the ocean waves, the white satin carefully dyed to fade from a turquoise blue into the white edges. It was a beautiful gown, one of Emma’s favourites. But wearing it now, she felt like she was drowning.

She didn’t know how long she stood there at the taffrail of the boat, her fingers clutching the hardwood. All she knew was soon enough a younger crew member came to stand by her side, his head bowed slightly.

“Y-Your Highness, the Captain has asked me to show you to your quarters, help get you settled.” His voice was quiet and timid, he had evidently not had much contact with royalty which showed he had spent next to no time aboard a navy ship.

“What’s your name?” Emma responded, her eyes not moving from the view of the sky touching the water. She had no hurry, no immediate wish to leave her position and discover where she would be living for the foreseeable months of travel ahead.

“Benning, Your Highness. M-Most people call me Ben.” The boy stuttered, still looking at her like she was imposing or could lash out and order his execution with a click of her fingers. Emma simply smiled at him, tucking a curl that the wind had swept loose behind her ear.

“It’s nice to meet you, Ben. And since we’re going to be sharing boat space for a while, don’t worry with the whole ‘Your Highness’ malarkey. Emma will do.” She smiled warmly, holding her hand out for him to shake, which he did so apprehensively. “Now, we should do as the Captain wishes. I guess I’d better see my quarters at some point.”

The royal quarters of the boat were lavish and elegant, fit for a princess. Emma didn’t truly care for the grandeur before her eyes, as long as she had a bed and a good book to keep her company she knew she would be quite satisfied. She often would hide away from her lessons in the library, delving into the world of fiction and imagination to escape from her responsibilities.

“I hope everything is to your liking, Lady Emma.” Ben said, his hands having pulled the cap from his head, fingers twisting it nervously. The poor boy, he was so anxious. Emma smiled warmly back at him, nodding softly.

“It’s perfect, thank you, Ben. Would you be so kind as to let the Captain know that I wish to rest for a short while, leaving home has taken the wind out of my sails, so to speak.” Ben nodded, bowed and left, resulting in Emma standing in the room alone. She sighed, pushing that one damned curl behind her ear once more before sinking into a chair, her eyes closed. Gods… Just more than a week ago she was happy, her only care in the world being her lack of freedom in her kingdom. Now she was sailing to a fate of a more likely than not loveless marriage. This was going to be a long few months…

 

* * *

 

A few weeks on the ocean had resulted in Emma having grown accustomed to life on the waves. But they were drawing close to the Dark One’s land now, the only adventure that Emma may ever have taken in her life was nearly at an end. Soon, she would be reunited with the man she expected to end up spending the rest of her life with, theoretically chained down, freedom stolen.

Emma was sat in her quarters, engrossed in one of the many novels that the Captain had decked the ship out with. She’d already made her way through three of them, life on the ocean with only sailors and her handmaiden for company meant most of her time was spent alone. So she filled those hours with literature, escaping into the tales of adventure she had been longing for all of her life.

_BANG._

Emma jumped to her feet, the book falling from her lap to the floor. That couldn’t be good…

An explosion rocked the ship, yells sounding from on deck. Fear resulted in her stomach plummeting, but she couldn’t help but feel a slight ebbing of adrenaline hit her veins. _An adventure._

Her eyes stayed fixed on the door of her quarters, her hand blindly searching behind her back for something, _anything_ , that she might have been able to use to protect herself.

_Yes._

Her fingers wrapped around something metal and heavy, pulling it closer to get a firm grip on the handle. Her water jug. Not the best weapon in the world, but the steel might have been able to do some form of damage.

The minutes that passed were long, tedious and dripping with tension. Emma’s heart hammered against her rib cage, the corset wrapped around her torso feeling far too tight; she could hardly breathe. Footsteps sounded above her, along with shrieks and screams from the men fighting, no, _dying_ to protect her.

The tension snapped when footsteps grew closer, the telltale signal that multiple pairs of boots were making their way down the steps to Emma’s quarters. _Shit._ If these were pirates, they were bound to kill her before raiding the room. They would take the jewels and clothes that she had little care for, but some held sentimental value to her mother. And there was no _way in hell_ that she was dying today. Years of ditching all classes bar the ones that would give her the skill to protect herself against villains and foes may have finally paid off.

So Emma raised the pitcher, poised and ready to slam it against the skull of whoever entered the room. Hopefully then she would startle them enough to allow her to fend off whoever else was heading to her quarters. If Queen Snow had taught Emma anything- it was to always have hope.

The knob of the door twisted, the door jolting. Emma sighed, she _had_ remembered to lock it after her. Her relief was momentary and quickly dispersed however, as a loud slam made her jump, her fingers slipping against the handle of the pitcher causing her to nearly drop it. Clearly, whoever was coming in was trying to open the door with brute force. There was a cracking sound. And clearly, they were succeeding on opening the door with said force. Emma swallowed, her mouth and throat dry as she readied herself.

With a loud crash the door burst open and Emma saw just who had attacked her ship. With a cry, she dashed forwards and smacked the heavy pitcher against the head of a short, tubby man wearing a red woollen hat, knocking him aside. But there were two others behind him, one of whom immediately grabbed her arms and forced her to drop the pitcher.

“Careful, Mullins!” The pirate in the red hat shouted, his hand holding the painful welt Emma had caused on the side of his head. “That's the princess, you buffoon. Cap’n said she needs to be kept alive and unharmed!”

 _What could pirates want with a princess?_ Surely all they did was loot, raid and kill royal vessels, not kidnap princesses? Unless they were taking her to ransom her family, even if they had no intention of keeping her alive long enough to return her to her home. Emma struggled against the grip of the pirate named Mullins, trying to squirm out of his grasp, but to no avail. Mullins pulled her closer, both arms tugging her against his chest, locking her arms down by her sides.

The other pirate stepped forwards, wrapping a strip of cloth around Emma’s mouth, gagging her.

“To stop you from screamin’, Highness.” He grinned a wide, toothless grin, one that made Emma’s skin crawl. _Gods…_ Mullins was so fucking strong, she could barely breathe let alone move thanks to his tight hold on her. The pirate in the hat was evidently the leader of the three, clearly one of the more highly ranked pirates in the crew, aboard the ship she was assumedly going to be forced onto.

All Emma could do was stand and struggle against Mullins as the other two sifted through her belongings, looking for anything of value. She was grateful that they passed over the locket trunk that held her jewels and crowns, they seemed to be in too much of a hurry to attempt to unlock or break into it.

“Come on, let’s go.” The red hatted leader said after a few minutes of rifling. “She’s got nowt of import here, the Cap’n will be expecting us back on the Jolly with the prize anyway.” _Prize?_ Emma mentally scoffed at the pirate’s crude description of her.

Emma yelped into the gag that had been so brutishly forced into her mouth when Mullins, hulking giant that he was, lifted her off of the ground, carrying her out of her quarters and up onto the deck. Carnage met her eyes. Blood and bodies and sailors lined up on their knees, pirates pointing swords at their throats. She whimpered when she saw young Ben, a deep gash across his shoulder and a look of complete fear on his face. Their eyes met, and he looked almost like he might pass out when he realised the princess was being taken by the pirates.

Pirate code usually meant that any prisoner would not be killed, but the crew could do with them what they like. And men like these, well they could do all sorts to a fair and beautiful princess. Emma kept Ben’s gaze as she was passed across the gap between the two ships, hoping that the pirates would spare him. Someone would need to be kept alive, to spread the news that whichever pirate captain it was that had ransacked the ship had also managed to seize the Crown Princess, and would not give her back without a fight or without payment. She just prayed that Ben may be among the few who survived this attack.

Once aboard the new ship, one that the pirate in the red hat had dubbed “the Jolly”, Emma was shoved down below deck and into some form of sleeping space. Her eyes took in the room, noting the many books and shelving units. Also the small cot in the corner. This couldn’t be the crew’s quarters, so where was she?

She heard a key turn in the lock, her head whipping around to see that whoever had taken her below, had now locked her in, leaving her alone. Her fingers wrenched the gag from her mouth, the foolish pirates had failed to tie her hands, having relied on Mullins to be the chains that kept her tied. In a flash, Emma was rifling through the desk drawers, searching the room for a key, or anything that might help her escape.

Preoccupied, Emma failed to notice the sound of boots on the steps, the click of the lock once again and the slight creaking as the door opened. She did, however, hear it snap shut, her body straightening from where it was half inside of a chest. She turned, slowly, to see whoever it was that had joined her in the room.

“Enjoying yourself, Your Highness?”

 _Gods…_ The man standing before her was stunning. A shock of messy dark brown hair, a defined jawline covered in slightly red stubble. And those eyes… The most piercing blue, a colour that seemed to burn through Emma’s very soul. He had an accent, a deep melodic voice as he watched her. Dressed head to toe in black leather, save the deep red vest that encased his chest, Emma immediately knew just who this man was. This was the Captain.

“Enjoying myself?” Emma spat back at him, doing her best to ignore just how gods-damned attractive he was. “Kidnapped by pirates, gagged and manhandled onto a ship filled with men with no honour. As if I could find joy out of being around villains like you.”

“My my my, what a tongue on you, Princess. I ought to cut it out. But I’m nothing if not a gentleman, love. Captain Killian Jones at your service.” He bowed mockingly, his hands splayed out towards her.

“You are no gentleman, _Captain.”_ Emma growled back at him, her arms crossing her chest in defiance. “And I am certainly _not_ your love.”

“Hmm, we’ll see about that, Princess.” He grinned back, unfaltered by her back talk. If there was one thing that Emma was good at, it was making snide and sarcastic comments towards those who deserved it. Oh, and she was a dab hand with a sword too. Usually she either got a glare from her parents or a shocked expression from everyone else who never would have expected that a princess would talk in such a way. “I hope you find these quarters comfortable during your stay with us, Highness. They are fit for a Captain after all.”

“These are your quarters?” That confused Emma. Why would the man who cruelly stole her from her own ship not just throw her in the brig? Or toss her to be used by is crew? And also, why would he give up his resting place so that she may be comfortable or not? “Why not lock me in the brig?”

“Well, if you would prefer to be down there in the tight darkness, love - I’m sure it can be arranged.” Jones chuckled at her, raising his eyebrow at her suggestion. Emma simply rolled her eyes, her fingers tapping against her arm.

“These quarters should be adequate. Adequate enough for whatever or wherever it is that you need me for.” She replied, knowing that there was no chance of her being dropped off back home in a few weeks by the pirates. They took her for a reason, slaughtered half of her crew for a reason. So all she could do was bide her time, sit back and hope that at some point she would find a sliver of opportunity where she may be able to wheedle her way off of the ship, even if she had to kill in order to succeed.

Jones simply chuckled again, the fingers of his right hand stroking over the handle of the sword that was attacked to his hip, something that Emma had immediately taken note of when he had entered the room. “Get some rest, Princess. We have a long journey ahead.” And before Emma could even open her mouth to argue, he turned and left with a sweep of his coat, locking the door of his cabin once again.

Emma groaned in frustration, running after him towards the door, her fists pounding against the wood as she screamed after him. “LET ME OUT, YOU BRUTE!” But it was all to no avail. Jones did not reappear, and nor did another pirate. It took a few minutes of unadulterated rage before Emma finally gave up, her back resting against the door as she slid down, her knees against her chest. She sobbed against the skirt of her dress, tears stains blooming against the fabric.

How could this have happened? These _animals_ took to her ship, the best ship in her father’s navy and stole countless lives, stole men from their wives and families. And they took her. Why had they taken her if not to share her around like a piece of meat? Why was she locked inside the _Captain’s_ quarters, told to rest and be treated almost like an honoured guest rather than a prisoner? What could Jones possibly be planning?

It hurt being away from her parents, it was something she had dreamed of for so long. But she never dreamed that she may never have the chance to see them again. Whatever these pirates were intending on doing with her, it must be awful. Why else would they attack the best naval vessel in the King’s fleet, taking only her as a prize?

The princess cried for a good few hours, the kind of crying where loud wracking sobs take over your whole body, cutting you to the core at the intensity of pain and sorrow rushing through you. The kind of crying that tired you out, leaves you weak and boneless. Emma cried until she had no tears left to spill, her legs shaky as she pulled her body up from the cabin floor, stumbling over to the surprisingly neatly made bed before collapsing onto it.

Emma fell asleep almost instantly, her mind and body exhausted and drained from the high emotions she had experienced. Her last thought before slipping into deep dark unconsciousness was that she knew that whatever would befall her the next day, would probably be horrendous. Something she would never be prepared for.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma and the captain become more acquainted. Swords included.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took forever to update! Working full time results in writing time become few and far between.
> 
> Double line breaks mean a change in POV.
> 
> Enjoy!

CHAPTER 2

When Emma’s eyes peeled open the next morning, they hurt. They were probably red and puffy. Her lids were sore and aching from the hours of crying. Her neck was stiff; she must have slept at an odd angle. A low groan escaped her as the wondrous grogginess of sleep cleared from her mind, the events of the day before bringing her back to the painful reality of her existence.  _ Kidnapped by goddamn pirates...  _

Emma sat up, her knuckles scraping at her eyelids, trying to knock the rest of sleep away so that her mind could sharpen. It was only when she opened them again and her vision focused that she spotted the man in the corner of the room. He must have come back in while she was sleeping, realising that she had taken up his bed. Killian Jones was slouched, fast asleep, in the most uncomfortable looking chair in the corner of the room with his head lolling back. Emma distinctly noticed his lack of a sword, he must have kept it elsewhere before coming back to his quarters to rest - which was smart. Had Emma awoken during the night and noticed his sword, she most likely would have used it to slay him and take control of his vessel. Instead, she was trapped in a cabin with a sleeping pirate, completely harmless and utterly vulnerable. 

How annoying. She could do nothing now except wait for him to wake, perhaps persuade him to find her some new clothes to wear as the stays beneath her dress were causing her grief. Emma had always preferred wearing looser, less restricting garments. But for the past month she had been required not only to act like a princess, but to dress like one. So that meant elegant travelling gowns, laced up tight so that her posture would be straight and proper. And sleeping in stays?  _ Ow.  _ Emma's back was sore from the odd angle of her spine due to the previous night's sleeping position. So she decided that her best course of action was to get up and move around, work out her muscles instead of letting them seize up.

Carefully and quietly, the princess made her way out of bed and over to the bookshelves that lined a wall of Jones' cabin. She made sure to keep her footsteps light, and to take a route that kept as much distance from the sleeping captain as possible. Waking him was certainly not her intention, she wanted a chance to snoop through his belongings in peace while he was still out cold. 

Her eyes raked over the spines of the books, and it surprised her to notice that unlike her own novella collection back at the castle, his contained an amalgamation of tongues and languages. She recognised a few (she turned up to  _ some  _ of her language lessons). Greek, latin, french. All sorts of different tomes from all sorts of different places. Emma hadn't expected a pirate to have an extensive vocabulary, let alone be able to read and possibly  _ speak _ a number of languages alongside that of the common tongue. It was impressive - to say the least.

One tome in particular piqued Emma's interest, one with no title or name embossed into the leather binding. It looked old, worn and well-loved. So she gingerly plucked it from the shelf, cautious to not knock anything. Making any form of noise that might rouse the captain was not on her agenda. Emma made her way back to the bed, a wince escaping her when the springs creaked under her weight. She glanced over at Jones, letting out a breath when she spotted he was still fast asleep. 

Her fingers toyed with the leather covering of the book before she lifted it, opening it to the very first page. Her eyes widened when she saw an elegantly handwritten note on the opening page. 

 

‘ _ Killian, _

_ This is a meagre but hopefully appreciated congratulations for securing the role of Lieutenant, I know how long you’ve been aiming to achieve such a feat.  _

_ I’m proud of you, little brother. There were times I feared you wouldn’t pull through from the darkness of our past, but you never stopped fighting.  _

_ And forever remember, a man unwilling to fight for what he wants, deserves what he gets.  _

_ Your elated brother, _

_ Captain Liam Jones.’ _

 

The note and the careful crafting of the letters was so unexpected. The words genuinely moved Emma, her eyebrows raising as she realised there was probably more to the pirate captain than she originally thought. And… He has been a lieutenant in some form of navy. What could have led a man of honour so far astray that he threw caution to the wind and turned his life into one filled with treachery and hatred? 

Emma’s finger traced over the long dried ink, the page beneath the writing yellowed and old.  _ What happened?  _ Something must have occurred, something dreadful enough to turn a man who had worked long and hard to obtain his position in the navy into a pirate.

 

“What are you doing?” Emma jumped when Jones’ voice rang out, clear and harsh. She turned to look at him sheepishly, her teeth pressed deep into her lower lip when their eyes met. He was angry, his gaze dropping from hers to fall on the book in her hands. 

“I… I was just exploring. This piqued my interest.”

Why she felt so awful for simply having a look around her place of encapture she didn’t know. Maybe it was purely because of the sight of him being so clearly unsettled by the book in her hand. He couldn’t seem to tear his eyes off of it, his stare intense and almost disturbing. Emma’s thumb lightly brushed the corner of the cover, trying hard not to shift uncomfortably. It took a moment, but eventually, Jones relaxed. He let out a deep sigh, his hand running through his hair before he looked up at her once again.

“Right, of course. I shouldn’t be surprised by that. Just, be careful with my things. As you can see, I haven’t much and I would appreciate them staying intact.” He seemed to be begging her, his hand had slipped from his hair to scratch behind his ear.  _ A nervous tick?  _ Was Emma making the infamous pirate captain nervous? Her head cocked slightly at the thought, her eyes trying to gage from his stance if her scruintiny was accurate. Jones took a step back and Emma’s eyebrows raised slightly. “I… You must be hungry. I’ll go and fetch you something to eat, Highness.” And with that, he darted towards the door, locking it once again as he left. 

Emma’s gaze returned to the book still clutched in her hands.  _ What happened to Liam?  _ She wondered as she placed it back on the shelf.  _ Why was Jones’ reaction so intense to naught more than a book?  _ She was determined to find out, even if it hindered her attempt to find some way of escaping this godforsaken ship. 

 

A twinge of pain in her ribs made Emma wince. She needed to get out of her stays, and  _ fast _ . The tightness of the laces were probably wreaking havoc on her internal organs. She couldn’t wait; her hands tugging the outer layer of her dress over her head. Now she was stood in Captain Jones’ quarters in nothing but her underclothes, completely vulnerable to a possible wandering pirate’s gaze. But she couldn’t bear the restricting feeling against her torso. Her fingers reached behind her, tugging at the laces, hoping for some form of relief. 

She cursed as her fingers slipped over the ribbons keeping the structure of her stays wrapped tightly around her body. She had never attempted to undress by herself before, she always had her lady’s maid to do that for her. A lady’s maid who was more than likely dead or injured thanks to these goddamn pirates. 

 

“Bloody hell, love. I know you’re staying in my bedchamber but I wasn’t expecting you to be so forward.” 

Emma whipped around, her arms crossing over her chest to cover herself as she looked behind her to see Jones back again. He was holding two plates of food, a smug grin on his face. The food on the plate looked fairly abysmal, but months at sea did usually result in rationing to the bare essentials, and pirates weren’t commonly welcome in places where fresh produce would be purchased. So it appeared that they had to resort to dried meats and crackers to keep them going until they next landed port. 

Jones had apparently forgotten the food in his hands however, his eyes transfixed on the curves of Emma’s body. The blue of his irises roamed over the way her stays pulled her in at the waist and the thin chemise beneath it. She was being looked at like a piece of meat, and somehow she didn’t find herself hating every second of it. Sure, he was being a complete bastard and sleaze made even worse by the look of hunger on his face. But Emma struggled to see past how goddamn fucking attractive he was. 

Emma was by no means a blushing maiden, she’d had a few nights of unyielded passion in her years alive. Her first had been with the stable boy, who had brought her little pleasure but he was cute and shy and he treated her well. But then she had ventured into the village one night, stealing away from her quarters under the moonlight to find herself in the local tavern. One too many ales had led to her necking with one of the palace guards who hadn’t been on duty. The poor man had been mortified when he had awoken the next morning in a barn with a pounding headache and the Crown Princess by his side after a quite literal romp in the hay. 

Emma had been with men before, but none had affected her like Captain Jones. He was like wildfire. His intense gaze both unsettled her and excited her. The way his eyes skated over her body, all pale skin and light freckles, she couldn’t help the shiver of enjoyment that ran down her spine.  _ Stop it, Emma. He’s a dirty pirate. He’s a thief and a murderer.  _

“Shut up and help me? My stays are suffocating and I’d rather not die from my overly uncomfortable clothing. Do me a favour and undo my laces?” She wasn’t sure why she asked for his help, especially after he had placed down the breakfast plates. She suddenly felt his body close behind hers. They were almost pressed up against one another, Emma’s breath hitching in her throat when she felt the warmth of his breath brush the back of her neck. 

“You know, darling, the proper way to ask would have been to say please. But I can sense your discomfort and I’m nothing if not a gentleman.” He muttered softly into her ear as his fingers worked on plucking at the laces that kept her stays secured around her torso. Emma didn’t respond, simply pulled her long blonde hair that desperately needed brushing over one of her shoulders, wanting to make the task of loosening the bodice easier and well, _quicker_. 

She didn’t know when it happened, but Emma’s eyes slipped closed as Jones undid the laces, something about his close proximity to her lulling her into a sense of ease and comfort. As soon as the ribbons became so loose that the garment holding her in almost fell from her body, her eyes shot open while her hands rushed to her chest to keep herself covered. 

“There. That better, Princess?” Jones asked, stepping away from her. 

“Yes. Thank you.” 

Jones smirked and moved over to a chest in the corner of the room. “A dress such as yours may be lovely when sitting in a palace or visiting a kingdom, but it certainly won’t do on a pirate ship such as the  _ Jolly Roger _ . I believe I still have some clothing that would be befitting for you, ones akin to your size.” As he spoke, he rummaged through the trunk, his body half-concealed by the large wooden panels that kept the item pieced together. How was she supposed to hate this man when he was going out of his way to make sure she was comfortable? Oh yes, he kidnapped her.  _ There it is.  _

Emma sighed, her arms still pressed against the edges of her stays, shivering slightly thanks to her exposed skin. “How long are you going to take?” She called to him, her voice full of irritation and impatience. “I’d rather not freeze to death aboard this ship.”

All she heard was a low chuckle echoing out of the chest, the noise growing louder as his head emerged from inside of the chest, a bundle of clothes clutched in his arms. Another shiver ran through Emma’s body, but she wasn’t certain that it was due to the cold. Jones’ hair had become mussed up from hanging almost completely upside down in the large chest, and the way the strands fell into his eyes was so beautiful Emma felt herself almost start drooling. She reminded herself  _ again  _ the kind of man that he was, forcing her eyes away from his handsome visage to the clothes in his arms.

“I don’t have many clothes for women aboard my ship but these should fare you well until we next make port. We will find you some more appropriately tailored garments once we reach land again, love.” He said, holding the bundle out to her. Emma accepted them, taking them with one hand, the other occupied with keeping herself modest and covered.

“Still not your love.” She muttered, stepping away from him again. “But, thank you. I… I’ll just change then.” 

Emma assumed her words would be a signal for Jones to leave the room, to allow her to change her clothes in peace. But the man simply leaned against his desk, arms crossed with that goddamned smirk on his lips once again. But Emma wasn’t having it. She rolled her eyes in response, huffing slightly as she held his gaze. Jones may have been obstinate, but Emma was willing to bet that she would beat him in a stubbornness competition. It took a moment, but Jones soon enough gave in, shaking his head with a light chortle. “As you wish.” 

* * *

Emma had changed with speed and urgency, at some point a pirate could have come bursting through the cabin door so she wanted to protect her modesty with haste. The shirt was soft and clung to her body in the right places while still being loose and comfortable. It was a deep navy blue, a colour that was well complimented by the black tunic vest that settled over the shirt, acting as a more comfortable version of her stays. It kept her supported but didn’t force all of the air out of her lungs. Jones had also provided her with some leather trousers, not unlike the ones he wore, but were clearly more suited and tailored for a woman. She looked every inch the pirate, and no matter how much she tried to kid herself out of the thought, she found herself secretly loving it.

Comfort was one thing Emma always allowed herself to indulge in - her usual wardrobe choices involving loose shirts and breeches as opposed to dresses. So Jones’ newest addition to her attire was like a blessing in disguise. No corseted gown, no tight lacings and skirts so long she would find herself tripping on. Just comfort paired with a pirate-like style. 

Emma peered into Jones’ tiny mirror in the corner of the room, finishing off the messy braid she had pulled her hair into with a small length of twine she had found on his desk. No point in having her long locks whipping her face if she ever made it above deck (it was unlikely since she was imprisoned by the pirates, but she could only hope). She wouldn't have admitted it to the captain, but she looked good as a pirate. Her outfit gave her a type of confidence she never usually would have expected to appear from clothing choices alone. She felt sleek, sexy and dangerous. 

A knock at the door pulled Emma from her moment of posing in front of the mirror, her hands running over her leather-clad ass. “Uh! Come- Come in!” She cried out, tugging the bottom of her shirt down, covering herself up. She turned back to the door just as Mr Smee, Jones’ right-hand man, entered the cabin. The red hat - the same one he had worn when he and his fellow crew members kidnapped Emma - was being twisted between his fingers anxiously. His eyes kept flicking between meeting Emma’s and staring down at the floor. He  _ was  _ nervous. What could have made the man who had so callously ordered Mullins to seize her from her royal quarters aboard the  _ Lady Swan  _ less than a day before? Emma assumed Jones had had a discussion with the crew where he’d ordered them to treat her as some sort of honoured guest, as opposed to the prisoner she actually was. 

Emma said nothing when Smee entered the cabin, her arms crossed over her chest and her eyes expectant. The man licked his lips before finally managing to meet her gaze properly. “The- The captain has requested your company for breakfast on deck, Your Highness.”  _ Requested. More like instructed. _ “He said that there is nothing like a morning sun to prepare someone for the day.”

“Isn’t he afraid that I might leap over board and attempt to flee?” Emma asked, finally speaking to the squat pirate. Her arms were still firmly situated in a crossed position and her eyebrow was raised. She may have decided to speak to the man who helped undertake her kidnapping, but that didn’t mean she was intending on being courteous to him. 

Smee chuckled slightly, his body still tense in her  presence. Emma noticed that a few red strands of wool had untangled themselves from the careful knitted interweaving of the hat (due to his constant fiddling with the garment). “I- I have no idea what goes through the captain’s mind sometimes, Highness. All I know is that what he says goes, and despite him still being so young, he’s the best captain a pirate could ask for.” 

Smee’s words struck a chord with Emma. She hadn’t really seen past the roguish exterior, flirtatious quips, and attractiveness of Jones, not noticing that Smee was right. Jones  _ was _ young, far too young in the usual hierarchy of sailors and pirates alike. Captain is the highest rank, it usually takes years of hard work, toiling and (in the terms of piracy) a large amount of mayhem and cruelty whilst on the waves. For Jones to have garnered the role of captain at his age, even after serving as a lieutenant in some navy rather than growing up in piracy, was actually rather impressive. He was clearly a well respected man, seen by his crew as the pinnacle of a good example.

“Well.” Emma began, her fingers tugging at the hem of her shirt once more. “If your captain requests my presence, then I guess I shall oblige.”

 

* * *

* * *

Killian had to get the bloody woman out of his mind. When she had been brought aboard his ship, her courageous attempt to act fearless before him had failed to cover the deep inset terror inside of her eyes. No matter how quick-witted and standoffish she acted with him, she could never hide the fear of being captured and taken away from all that was once familiar; thrust into the unknown. And,  _ speak of the devil, _ the princess then appeared on deck. Killian’s eyes widened. The sight of her in pirate clothing, the tight breeches and accentuating vest sent a jolt running up his spine. Gone was the meek and gentle princess, in her place stood a bold and confident pirate. At least, a pirate to the eye. Killian doubted Emma would decide to wholeheartedly accept his lifestyle, all thanks to her upbringing. He noticed when she tugged at the hem of the shirt, her fingers attempting to pull the cotton over her behind, evidently she found the tightness of her attire moderately uncomfortable. He grinned when she finally made it before him, not even trying to hide the fact that his eyes were skating all over her body, taking her in.

“You look every inch the pirate, love. I must say, it suits you.” He smirked at her, wiggling his eyebrow slightly. He didn’t miss the fact that a pink blush spread over Emma’s cheeks and down her chest where her shirt was unbuttoned just enough to allow him a peek inside. Killian held back a chuckle, turning away from her to where Smee was placing their morning meal on the table. He and his crew often dined together under the stars, usually when they were celebrating a successful raid on a enemy ship. “Come, love. You must be ravenous.” 

Killian led Emma to her seat, even tucking it in behind her - ever the gentleman. “Apologies that this meal may not be to the quality that you’re used to, Princess. But I’m afraid that months on the waves doesn’t lend much aid in terms of food storage.” But to his surprise, Emma waved his apology away with her hand, instead pulling the plate of dried meats, biscuits and pickled vegetables closer.

“I don’t know what you believe we royals eat, Captain. But we aren’t entirely high-maintenance. Well, my family isn’t. I’ll survive just fine on this as you do.” Emma said, nodding her head in thanks to Smee after he poured some grog into her tankard. She grimaced slightly at the taste of the slightly-spirited water, something Killian knew would take some getting used to. Still, he admired her defiance of most people’s expectations of royalty. Not many princesses would be as comfortable as she at the idea of consuming a pirate’s meal, particularly when most pirates themselves struggled at the thought of eating all that a ship’s parlour would have to offer. 

 

The crew bustled around them as they dined, continuing to work hard to push forward against the high winds that made the  _ Jolly Roger  _ struggle against the force. Killian’s hair had to continually be pushed out of his eyes, and he was glad that Emma had tied her hair back before climbing on deck, or her lovely face would be completely covered by her long blonde locks. They ate in comfortable silence, which intrigued Killian. He had thought that perhaps dining together would be awkward or stilted, but even when quiet they seemed to be content in each other’s company. Emma didn’t seem to have realised it, her eyes fixed on two of his younger crew members who had started to practice their fighting techniques. Their swords clashed loudly together, their whoops and cheers and laughter filling the air. Many of the crew had halted in their work to watch them, jeering and shouting as Sharky and Bones continued their playful attack against each other. 

“Their form is all wrong.” Emma muttered, causing Killian to raise an eyebrow. Sharky and Bones were two of his best boatswains, tutored by himself in the art of wielding a weapon. He took it upon himself to make sure that his crew were the best of the best,  _ always  _ relying on good form to win their battles. As a former lieutenant in the king’s navy, Killian had received the superior level of training available to a sailor.

“That is where I have to disagree, love.” Killian said to the princess, reluctant to let her comment pass. “It may be bad form for a soldier on land, but out here on the waves, my men are trained to be perfect in their fighting stance. See, unlike solid ground, the deck of a ship isn’t entirely stable, so us seafaring folk have to adapt.” As he spoke, Killian gestured to the positioning of his men, the grounding of their feet against the deck.

“I don’t believe that the steadiness of the ground affects the propriety of how your stance should be during a combat situation.” Emma then retorted, her eyes turning from the still fighting junior officers to fall on their captain. Killian felt he could have drowned in the intense deepness of her jade eyes. “I rarely attended my classes at home, but I never missed one in the art of sword-fighting. I know I could beat one of your dirty pirate crew members with ease. In fact, I bet that I could best you, Captain Jones.” She spat his name at him, a competitive spirit settling in her voice. Killian chuckled, his hand scratching at the light stubble on his cheek. She wouldn’t win, he knew that much. She may have trained her whole life in the art of soldiering, but he had something she didn’t. Experience. He had a life of on the ocean in his belt, years of battles and fights and skirmishes behind him. It’s one thing to have knowledge and training, but that is nothing without life experience. 

“If you believe you can beat me, love, then why don’t we put that to the test?” He smirked at her, getting to his feet. “Sharky! Bones! Toss those cutlasses over here, our dear princess believes she can best me in an altercation.” The crew laughed at the incredulity of the suggestion, all of them knowing how good Killian is at fighting. The two men whose brawl had started this whole thing handed a sword to both Killian and Emma, the rest of the crew stepping in line to form a ring on deck for the captain and the princess to fight in. 

“Sure you want to give me a sword, Jones?” Emma said, picking up the cutlass and standing from her seat. “I could kill you and take the ship as my own.” There was a form of teasing in her voice, no real element of threat. Which certainly surprised Killian, he had kidnapped the woman after all. But all he did in response was wink at her, his own sword raised and ready.  _ Let her try. She may fight like a knight, but I fight like a pirate. _

It was the princess who took the first swing, her sword curving through the air to come crashing against his blade. It was evident immediately to Killian that she fought by the book with meticulously calculated attacks - no improvisation. She was determined, he would give her that. If she tried hard enough, and he wasn’t at his prime, she just may have been able to beat him. He considered for a moment that he may have gone easy on her, let her steal the win. But his pride won out and he gave his all as he fought back. He had a reputation to maintain after all. The sound of clashing metal filled the air, their clothes and hair being whipped up by the wind and their movements. They danced around one another, their bodies elegant and light as they wove in a delicate pattern. 

Killian held off for a while, his own lunges reluctant and entirely free of danger, all in order to lull the princess into a false sense of security. But once they had settled into a rhythm, his advances shifted. He started to fight dirty, encompassing twirls and power into his pounces. He saw a flash of fear register on Emma’s face and he knew that that was his chance. His foot caught around Emma’s heel and he kicked, sending her falling onto her back. The intensity of his move had left him a little unbalanced, so he ended up toppling as well. He managed to catch himself before he landed on top of her, the edge of his sword coming to rest against her throat. 

“Good form, love. But not good enough.” He smirked at her smugly, their faces close as he leant over her. “Normally I’d prefer to do other more enjoyable activities with a woman on her back. With my reputation on the line, you’ve left me no choice but to best you. A bit of advice though, Princess? When I jab you with my sword, you’ll feel it.” 

She wasn’t impressed, he could tell that much. In fact, she looked rather ‘put out’. But she took the hand that he offered, once he had climbed to his feet once more. Gently, he pulled her up, a smug grin on his face hiding the shame he felt inside. He’d let his inner pirate nature slip out slightly, let it weave its way past his gentlemanly exterior. 

“You didn’t fight fair.” She said after smoothing her shirt down, her eyes fixed on his chest rather than meeting his gaze. He couldn’t blame her, he had been a bit of an ass by kicking her feet out from under her and probably resulted in her walking away with a fair few more bruises than she started with. But of course, all he could do in response was shrug.

“Pirate.” He winked at her. She stared at him and Killian’s breath hitched in his throat. The look in her eyes - she looked almost crestfallen. If he didn’t know any better, he would have said that she had found herself enjoying the sport between them. The fact that she was in the company of murderers and thieves must have slipped her mind.  

It was at that moment that Killian realised how well she belonged, how perfectly she fit amongst the men of the  _ Jolly Roger.  _ Part of the crew.  _ Yet she never can be. She hates me, hates  _ us _ for kidnapping her. But it was for her own good.  _ There was a moment between them, a silent understanding where words were spoken between the glance that they shared. Yet Killian broke the unspoken discussion when his eyes tore themselves from hers. His body turned so that he could head back to the table they had vacated, the final remnants of their breakfast having been tidied up by one of his crew. He sank back into his chair, his fingers falling to stroke his chin in deep thought. In nothing more than a short morning, the princess had managed to wind her way into his life with her quick wit and astonishing beauty. She had wheedled into his mind, an ever-present, all-encompassing thought. 

With a sigh, Killian drained the remainder of his drink from his tankard before rising once more, heading over to the helm. He pushed any thoughts of the princess and how wonderful she was down into the deep recesses of his mind. 

“Alright, you filthy bilge rats!” He shouted across the deck to the crew, most of whom were standing around laughing and discussing the fight between their captain and the captured princess. “Show’s over, get back to work!” The men scurried away from one another, returning to their stations. 

Alone again, Killian couldn’t help but let his eyes search the deck of the ship for long blonde hair that shone in the sunlight. Emma had moved to stand by the rail, facing out to sea. He didn’t know what inspired him to move from the helm of the ship to stand beside her, or why he felt comfortable interrupting her solitude and isolation from the pirates. 

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” She said softly, her gaze unwavering from the soft lapping of the water when he stepped beside her. She almost could have been speaking to herself, she didn’t seem to have acknowledged his presence at all. “I mean- The way the morning sun looks on the ocean waves. The gentle dappling of light against the lightly rolling water.” Her voice was soft and quiet, almost serene. The water appeared to calm her, any bitterness or anger at him missing from her tone. This side of her was different from the standoffish and opinionated princess he had grown to know over the past few hours since she had boarded the  _ Jolly Roger _ .

“Aye.” He replied, agreeing with her comment about the sun on the waves. He had thought it many a time over his years on the ocean, often a quiet afternoon would be filled with him overlooking the water, a gentle contentment filling his bones. At his simple remark, Emma tuned to look at him finally, her green eyes wide as they meet his. She seemed to want to say something, her lips quivering as her eyes searched his. He stared back, realising that other than when he had practically fallen atop her during their sword fight, this was the closest that they had ever been to one another. He could see the soft slant of her nose, the gentle freckling of dots across her cheeks. She had a naturally light pink flush to her cheeks that sat over her pale and milky complexion. She was fathomlessly stunning, her skin and face shining with a natural beauty that was unakin to any he had seen before. 

“Why am I here, Jones?” She said finally, snapping him from his quiet admiration of her form. “Why order your crew to steal me away in the late evening only to treat me with respect and kindness? Why didn’t you just toss me to your crew?” Her voice grew louder with each question, her brow furrowing. Killian wasn’t quite sure if she realised that she had burst, throwing query after query at him without leaving room for him to provide her with an answer. “What do you get from all of this?”

He almost told her. She was so fierce, so passionate in her attempt to wrangle the truth from him that he very nearly spilled the secrets she was so desperate to learn. He almost revealed why his crew had stormed her ship, had killed the men who had been conscripted to  _ protect  _ her. But she didn’t need to know his reasoning, didn’t need to know why she was safe with him aboard the  _ Jolly Roger.  _

“I’m a pirate, love.” He settled on replying with an easy comment, one he had spent many a year falling back on. “We are well known for never needing to provide an explanation and giving no quarter. We do what we please and when we please it. Surely I do not need to give you a reason as to why we bask you with compassion, princess. We may be pirates, but we know how to treat a lady.” 

Emma didn’t look convinced. She gave him a long and scrutinising look for at least a minute before sighing. Her fingers pushed a long strand of her hair that had fallen from her braid behind her ear as she turned away from him once more. Killian took the hint. She hadn’t received what she wanted from him, and any hope of a continued conversation between them was over. But she didn’t seem opposed to his company. So Killian remained by her side at the railing of the ship, encompassed in a deep, thought-provoking silence as they stared out at the deep, blue ocean. Secrets and stories surrounded them as the ship cut through the water like glass, hidden truths that were begging to be revealed pounding at Killian’s temples like the waves hitting the bow of the ship.  _ Some day, princess… Some day you will learn why.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like this chapter? Want me to keep going? Please do hook me up with a review, they feed me and keep me motivated! :)

**Author's Note:**

> 'Hook' me up with a review, mates?


End file.
